


haunted (I know your eyes, but not that smile)

by meroure



Category: California Diaries - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: babysitters100, F/M, Gen, M/M, Minor Violence, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meroure/pseuds/meroure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think I‘m being haunted,” Ducky told Maggie on Wednesday, edged between two bookshelves as he made the phone call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	haunted (I know your eyes, but not that smile)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the babysitters100 prompt _haunted_. Thank-you so much to lucida for the beta.

The tea tasted of lemongrass, fleabane and rose. Ducky gulped it down in quick, measured sips. Across the table, Pilar drank hers slowly, her dark varnished fingernails highlighted against the pristine white tea cup with a hairline crack in the handle. “The past always comes back to haunt you,” she warned, watching him over the rim. Ducky should have known that she meant it literally. The canister of salt and cayenne pushed into his hands as he rose to leave should have been a clue.

\---

 

On Saturday, it was a just a flicker in the corner of his eye. A transparent glow when he glanced around.

\---

 

The shadow was still there the next day lurking just out of sight. Once, while at work, Ducky thought he caught a glimpse of a reflection in the plate glass windows, but when he turned around nobody was there. “I’m too young to go crazy,” he muttered, picking up another stack of books to shelve. It was easy for the bookstore to prey on the imagination, shaping attitudes and atmospheres just like the books it sold. Dark cherry veneered shelves that reached the ceiling created a maze through the store. Ladders shaped like staircases allowed access to the topmost shelves. Small chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing warm bursts of light from stain-glass shades. In nooks and crannies, an odd leather chair or antique footstool allowed for sitting. The bookstore smelled inexplicably of musk and coriander and leather, of sunflowers and a hint of orange. Sunny had inherited the bookstore. “It was in the family,” she had said with a careless wave of her hand, but in a tight voice that indicated questions would not be tolerated. They hadn’t asked.

The bookstore was open at odd times. The sign on the door read: _Hours: whenever we feel like it._ Amalia once complained that it wasn’t very welcoming. And Sunny had snippily informed her that if _she_ had a better idea, then she could change it. Ducky actually liked it. It meant that nobody noticed if he was late to work.

The sign had never been replaced. It didn’t seem to hurt the number of customers. Of course, there weren’t many bookstores on this side of Palo City that sold Daysighter classics, mysteries and romance novels alongside Nightsighter charm manuals and recipe books and plant guides.

\---

 

Tuesday afternoon, Ducky woke to a warm, stale breeze tickling his feet. The sun was high in the sky. The window sash was cracked, and the blinds rustled against the window. Ducky frowned, stretching his arms above his head and popping his shoulder. He rarely slept with the window open. The mixture of fresh air and smog sometimes made him sneeze.

Logically he knew it was probably nothing, but Ducky was a worrier. He thought about it in his shower while scrubbing his hair with coconut-scented shampoo. He thought about it while getting dressed, pulling a clean bright turquoise tee-shirt with Sherlock Holmes’ _Hounds of the Baskervillle_ silkscreen on the front. He had a collection of literary tee-shirts: _Fahrenheit 451_ , _Animal Farm_ and _To Kill A Mockingbird_ , among others. They were wonderfully job appropriate--and colorful. He thought about it when he ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, and gelled his hair.

Before leaving for work, Ducky strengthened the protection charms. He sprinkled a mixture of salt and cayenne around the perimeter of the house. Then, he wrote a message on a yellow post-it note, asking Ted to please remember to lock the doors and windows. He left it on the television screen where Ted would be sure to see it.

\---

 

“I think I‘m being haunted,” he told Maggie on Wednesday, edged between two bookshelves as he made the phone call. She was the least likely to freak-out. She was also half-asleep.

Her ‘hmm’ sounded like a purr, relaxing Ducky even over the phone. “Have you talked to Pilar?”

“I think she already knows.” Ducky remembered the cayenne and the word ‘haunt.’

“If Pilar knows then everything is fine,” Of course, Maggie would say that; she had the utmost respect for Pilar. But she was right. If Pilar had Seen something, then she would have taken steps to protect Ducky. That was why, Ducky realized, the tea had tasted so awful.

Maggie hummed again. “Do you want me to tell Sunny?”

“No,” Dusky shifted the phone from one shoulder to the other, “No, not yet.”

\---

 

It was 11am on Thursday when the door chimes rang. Ducky looked up, and right through, the stocky figure of Jason Adams.

They had been friends once before high school. Best friends, even. But like everything else, high school had been weird. Vista was one of the few cross-species high schools in the country. Classes kept a Nightsighter schedule, and ran from seven o’clock in the evening to two o’clock in the morning. It was like any other high-school with Einstein nerds and Neanderthal jocks. Jay had found friends with the other humans and mages, while Ducky had been adopted by a pack of were-jaguars and a vampire.

The last time Ducky had seen him, in the cereal aisle of a local grocery, Jay had been very much human, and very much alive.

Now, he was very much neither.

“You don’t have to stare. I know you have see a ghost before.” Jay crossed his arms and glared.

“You need to work on the whole being solid thing,” Ducky said before he could stop himself. It was true, though. Most ghosts could pass as living because they had color and weight. Jay frowned, but obligingly shut his eyes and concentrated. Ducky watched as the transparent film of Jay’s body swirled, solidifying and becoming flesh-colored. His jeans blossomed a dark blue denim, faded at the knees, and his track jacket shone a bright red.

“Better?” Jay opened his eyes, irises pigmented with color.

All the ghosts Ducky knew, he had only known as ghosts. He wasn’t used to being accosted by the semi-transparent figure of an old friend.

“Right, sorry, ah...when did this happen?”

“About a month ago, I was driving home from a party. I didn’t think I was that drunk, but that tree, man, it just came out of nowhere.” He shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it. Ducky couldn’t believe it either. There were like ten trees within the city-limits; Jay must have been really drunk and really unlucky to hit one. Ducky managed not to say, ‘This is why you aren’t supposed to drink and drive.’

“Why are you here?” he asked instead. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” The morning sun shone through the windows, and it made Jay look washed out and ragged.

Ghosts had always freaked Ducky out. Dying, but staying half-alive and then dying again, had never made much sense to him. He had written a paper on the “Physiology of the Ghost” for his high school biology honors class, and had gotten an ‘A’, even though his teacher had noted that he should have focused less on African ghost folklore. (It hadn’t been folklore, his parents had worked with ghosts in Ghana.)

“I haven’t slept recently. Being dead, man, it messes with your internal clock.”

“Huh,” Ducky said. Being a Daysighter following a partial Nightsighter schedule had never really confused his body.

“I wanted to talk to you,” And really, they hadn’t talked since the middle of sophomore year. “I don’t know how to be a Nightsighter.”

Ducky stared at him, because really? “We went to a cross-species high school,” he said slowly, “You were friends with mages.”

Jay looked off to the side, away from Ducky, “Well, yeah...”

Ducky waited. Sometimes, he remembered, it took Jay a while to get to the point.

“It’s weird, okay?” Jay’s eyes slid back and met Ducky’s gaze. “I feel like I’m still a Daysighter. My friends are all excited about it, but I’m not there yet. They are all _Magic!Magic!Magic!_ and I just miss being human. I just thought you might understand.” His gaze sharpened suddenly, “Wait. You are still human, right?”

“Yes,” Ducky’s voice was more indignant that the question warranted, but he hated the assumptions people sometimes drew. Just because his best friends were were-jaguars, did not mean that he wanted to be turned. He honestly _liked_ being human. He didn’t understand why that was such a hard concept for some people to grasp. Television shows depicted cross-species relationships, children shows taught tolerance and showed Daysighters and Nightsighters living in peace. It _was_ possible to mostly live in the Nightsighter world and still be human.

Jay raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Dude, it is a valid question. You’re still hanging with this pack.”

“They are my friends,” Ducky said defensively. They were his only friends. They were his family. He couldn’t imagine anything else.

“Obviously.”

Ducky sighed. He knew he was going to help Jay. He had never been able to say no to Jay. When they were ten, Ducky had sliced the palm of his hand open with one of his parents’ African tribal swords. When the Emergency Room nurse who bandaged his hand asked why, he simply responded, “Because Jay told me to.” It was one of his downfalls. Ducky needed to be liked. He shifted, squinting as the sun hit him in the eye. “Look, go home and sleep. We can talk about this later.”

“Like over drinks or something?”

“Yeah, like over drinks or something.” Jay left, his form nearly melting in the sunlight.

Ducky didn’t know which was more surprising: that Jay had died or that Jay as a ghost had sought him out. Ducky thumped the side of the cash register in frustration. It was an antique, large and brass, with intricate scroll work on the sides. It added atmosphere. He wished it also answered unanswerable questions.

\---

 

“Jay came into the bookstore today,” Ducky said, handing Dawn and Sunny cups of freshly brewed coffee. The pink glow of the setting sun was disappearing from sight, and long shadows fell across the store.

“Jay? You mean the scumbag, mage-loving, your ex-best friend who is a fucking bastard Jay?” Sunny took a long sip of her coffee.

Ducky added, “He’s a ghost now,” and was pleased to see Sunny spit her coffee back into her cup.

Dawn made a face. “Really.”

“Mmmhmm...He said he wanted to know to be Nightsighter.”

“And he couldn’t go ask one of his friends?” Dawn blew across the top of her coffee.

“Or maybe they finally realized what a fucking ass he is, and they abandoned him,” Sunny groused. She fixed Ducky with a look, “I hope you told him to fuck off.” Sunny was one of the most vindictive people Ducky knew. She held grudges for years, and he knew she wasn’t going to like his answer.

“I’m just going to help him.”

“Fucking idiot,” Sunny muttered, but she squeezed his shoulder as she passed to the back-room. If her nails dug into his shoulder harder than necessary, neither of them mentioned it.

Dawn studied him for a minute, “Just be careful, okay?” she finally warned.

“It will be fine.” Ducky stole her cup and took a drink. He could totally look after himself, they had nothing to worry about.

\---

 

The house was silent when Ducky let himself in through the front door. The lights were off, the television wasn’t blaring, and there were no awkward thumping noises coming from the second floor, which meant that Ted must be out. Ted operated on a normal Daysighter schedule: sunrise to sunset. Ducky’s schedule was more sporadic; half Daysighter and half Nightsighter. Sometimes they crossed paths coming or going, but if it wasn’t for the ever-looming pile of dishes in the sink, and dirt tracks on the living room carpet, Ducky would never even know that he was sharing the house with anyone, let alone his big brother.

The alphabet magnets on the refrigerator door read, DUCKY WE NED MILK. Ducky rolled his eyes, and re-arranged the colorful letters so that they spelled, BUY IT URSELF. He knew he would end up buying the milk and whatever else they needed. Ted was notoriously bad at going to the grocery store. Ducky opened the refrigerator and stared at the half empty shelves: a limp bushel of lettuce, an expired carton of eggs whites, moldy cheese. The yogurt looked safe. He ate it as he walked around outside, checking and re-enforcing the protection charms. Then he trudged upstairs and fell straight into bed.

It felt like he had just shut his eyes, when his phone buzzed.

“I’m going to have Benson check him out,” Sunny said. Benson Retlin wore too much plaid, navy blue high-tops, and fingerless black gloves. Ducky thought he looked like a lumberjack lost at a Nirvana concert.

Ducky blinked, “Sunny, get back to work,” he said.

“I’m going to ask Benson to check him out. If Jay is up to something, we need to know about it.” She hung-up. Someday, Ducky needed to talk to her about being polite, even though he was sure it was a lost cause. He rolled over and buried his face in his pillow, all he wanted to do was sleep.

\---

 

The thing was, it shouldn’t change anything. Ducky hadn’t spent so much time thinking about Daysighter and Nightsighter differences since his senior year of high-school, when Alex... And that was the real issue. Jay reminded Ducky of Alex, and lost friendships, and what could have beens.

He didn’t realize how distracted he was until Amalia tapped him on the shoulder with a smoothie from the local diner. He hadn’t even heard her enter the shop.

“Are you okay?” she asked, giving him a look that stated: _I’m here. I’m ready to listen._

“Fine,” he mumbled, trying to look upbeat and perky. He took the smoothie she pushed across the counter. These were his real friends, he thought, shoving Jay to the back of his mind. He took a sip, the condensation on the outside slipping over his fingers. “Where are Dawn and Sunny?”

“Sunny is still at the diner getting breakfast. Dawn had some sort of inter-species rally with that group she volunteers for? I don’t know what it is about. I just said I would come in. ” Amalia shrugged and sucked at her straw. “Maggie and Justin had a huge fight last night about the chord progression for this one song. I didn’t want to stick around.”

“Don’t let him kill Josie!” Ducky gasped in mock horror. Amalia laughed. It was an old joke, that had earned him several disgruntled glares, but really, with a band full of were-jaguars, the joke wrote itself. Amalia managed _Vanish_. The post punk-rock band played Daysighter and Nightsighter venues across the city. Ducky sometimes wondered if Dawn, Sunny and Brendan ever felt left out. They were the only members of the pack who weren’t associated with the band. But then, he would watch as Dawn and Sunny bantered with each other across the bookstore, or listen to Brendan talk about his elementary school students, and he knew they were happier there than in front of a crowd.

Amalia was happy wherever she could mother people. It was something that had taken Ducky by surprise when they first became friends because his mother was not maternal at all. It was nice, though, knowing someone was always looking out for him.

“Look, I don’t know if I’m supposed to say anything, but Sunny told us about Jay.”

Ducky rolled his eyes. That was a given. Packs shared everything, and Sunny was especially vocal when she disliked someone.

“No, like. I mean, it makes sense that you want to reconnect with him. Just...” her voice became softer. “Ducky, just remember he’s not Alex.”

Ducky jumped at the name. “I know that.”

“I just want my best friends back.” He hadn’t meant to say that.

“Ducky.” Amalia’s hurt was palpable, even before she looked at him with her brown eyes.

“I didn’t mean that,” he tried to explain. “I just...I want closure. I didn’t realize how much I wanted it until he was standing right there in front of me.”

Her eyes cleared a little. “Alex...” she started to say.

Ducky shook his head. “It’s not about that.”

She looked at him, pointing her bright pink straw in his direction.

“Well, maybe a little,” he amended. “But Jay was my best friend too, before he became a jerk.”

Alex had gone to Chicago. Alex wasn’t coming back.

“Sweetie,” she leaned over the counter and hugged him. “We’re always here for you.” Ducky nodded, leaning in. Amalia gave great hugs.

\---

 

He met Ted on the front stoop. Ducky was returning home; Ted was getting ready to go to work. They stared at each other for a long second, before chuckling. Ducky pocketed his house-key, reaching for the door that Ted held open. But instead of moving out of the way, Ted remained in the doorway. “Hey,” he said, “Hey. Jason Adams stopped by to see you yesterday evening. Is he bothering you again? Because I can beat him up.”

Ducky laughed. He was surprised at how ugly it sounded coming from his mouth, “You can’t beat him up. He’s dead.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure he’s alive,” Ted’s face scrunched-up in confusion. “He was standing right here. Talking.”

“I mean, he’s a ghost.” Ducky clarified. He never doubted Ted’s genuineness, but sometimes he wondered at the lack of braincells. “You know, a _Who you gonna call?_ type of ghost.”

Ted obviously wasn’t up to date with his eighties movie reference. He just blinked. “Oh. Well. I can still beat him up.”

“Nah, I got this. Thanks,” Ducky patted Ted’s arm and went to brush past him. As far as he was concerned, the conversation was over, but Ted grabbed his arm, and held Ducky back.

“Hey, don’t let him fuck with you.” he said. There was a beat, while Ducky stared at him. The last time Ted had looked that fierce on Ducky’s behalf was three years ago when Alex left. And that was something he was not going to think about.

“I won’t,” he said.

Ted stared at him for a moment, apparently assessing for truthfulness, before releasing his arm. Ducky walked into the house. The blinds were drawn, and the were lights off. Ducky took two Advil and fell asleep on the couch watching re-runs of _Ghostwriter_. It made more sense than his life. It was no fair that preteen kids in horrific neon clothes and baggy jeans got to talk to a spirit through written word. Ducky was almost jealous. They got a cool ghost. He was stuck with Jay.

\---

 

It was three days before Jay returned to the shop.

“Oh Ducky, he’s haunting you again,” Sunny sang out, not bothering to lower her voice. “Have you ever noticed that scumbags never die the first time around?”

Jay glared at her. Ducky hustled out of the backroom, where he had been unpacking boxes, to the front of the store. He didn’t want Jay and Sunny to be together unsupervised. There was a tiny, but completely logical fear, that Sunny would accidentally curse Jay and then he would be stuck haunting the store as a poltergeist. Which, really, was the last thing anyone needed.

Ducky was surprised he showed up at all. Jay had not been very reliable as a human.

“Want to go to Crypts tonight?” Jay asked, with a casualness Ducky used to envy. Crypts was Ducky’s favorite Nightsighter club. It was a mix-species club, and tended to draw the more open-minded and unusual characters. Or, at least, incubi and succubi usually didn’t frequent it. There was nothing worse than being in a club full of mages who liked to cast love glamour.

“Sure,” Ducky said. “I get off at two.”

Jay smirked at Sunny as he left the store, the bell ringing cheerily after him.

“He is so fucking smug,” Sunny growled, viciously punching the antique keys of the cash register as she rang-up a purchase. Her ‘Have a nice day’ sounded like she was sending someone to the guillotine.

“I didn’t like or trust him while he was alive,” she groused. “That hasn’t changed just because he is dead.”

“Did Benson find anything?” Ducky couldn’t help but ask.

Sunny’s face darkened. “No. But he’s going to ask his brother.”

\---

 

The club entrance was masked by a peeling dirty robin-egg blue clapboard exterior. A were-bear stood guard at the door, checking IDs and determining who was allowed inside. Ducky and Jay easily slipped inside. It took a minute for their eyes to adjust to the dark room, lit only by red and neon lights. The DJ was playing upbeat eighties dance music. Ducky bopped along as Jay dragged him to the bar. A fae boy, translucent wings shimmering lime green in the light, beckoned for Ducky to join him on the dance floor. Ducky ignored the come-hither stare, instead leaning over the bar to shout his order. He usually didn’t pick boys up when he went out. Weres could be temperamental, vampires tended to only find one mate, mages were often jerks and ghosts were no better. The last two were his own personal opinions.

“This is like old times, dude!” Jay toasted, beer sloshing over the side of his glass.

It wasn’t like old times. Ducky had never gone to a bar with Jay in his life, and if they had it probably wouldn’t have been Crypts. Ducky had never seen Jay here, and he would bet anything that Jay usually frequented Fusion, a more preppy club on the other side of Palo City.

“To old times,” Ducky said less enthusiastically, taking a smaller sip of his beer.

Jay twisted around, craning his neck so that he could scan the room. “Did you know that there is a fairy staring at you?”

Ducky lowered his lids, flicking a glance towards the dance floor. It was the same fae that had attracted his attention when they had walked in.

“You aren’t even interested?” Jay whistled. “Fairies are supposed to be--”

“I know,” Ducky cut him off curtly. Everyone knew that fairies were second only to succubi and incubi in sexual power. He just didn’t care.

Jay was either trying to be annoying or didn’t know how to read social cues. “Fuck,” he said, lifting his mug of beer to his lips, “I guess when you can have your choice of group sex with any member of the pack, everything else seems tame.”

And seriously, what the fuck? Ducky was frozen in place. It was a good thing he had the bar for support because otherwise he would have face-planted onto the floor. “What the fuck?”

“Um,” Jay’s eyes widened. “You haven’t?”

“ _Fuck no!_ ” Ducky’s muscles started working again and he gulped down half of his beer in record time. “Why the fuck would you even think that? You should know that I--” He stopped, reining himself in. “They are my friends. I don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” Jay apologized, he looked away from Ducky and started to check out a group of girls that just gathered at the bar. Ducky thought that maybe the topic had been dropped, but after several minutes Jay tugged at his sleeve. “Hey--Hey--what about you and that Vampire?”

Ducky choked, coughing on his beer.

“We weren’t,” Ducky pointedly took a sip of his drink. He wondered if the fae boy was still around. Maybe he should dance with him because, god, fairies weren’t that bad and anything was better than talking to Jay about Alex.

“Really? Dude, everybody thought you two were--”

They had tried. They had tried and it had failed miserably.

Ducky set his glass down with more force than necessary. “I’ll be back,” he called, heading towards the back where the bathrooms were. It didn’t matter, Jay was already infatuated with a ghost wearing a too short skirt, hair piled on top of her head in a careless manner that really wasn’t.

He washed his hands, then leaned against the sink. “don’t be a hater, be a haunter” someone had printed beside the mirror in bold black lettering. ‘vampires 4 life’ read another. Ducky splashed at it with water. The words didn’t fade or smear.

“Get it together McCrae,” he muttered, staring at himself in the mirror. ”Alex left.” No matter how many times he had repeated the words for the past three years, that didn’t make it any easier. Seeing Jay brought up memories of the past he could live without. “Fuck,” he rubbed at his eyes.

The door opened, letting in a burst of music and conversation, before closing. He expected to hear the echo of steps across the floor, of the closing of a bathroom stall door, or the pulling down of a zipper. “You are making this too easy, Christopher. I thought it would be harder.” Ducky’s hands dropped from his eyes. There was a pair of black Puma sneaks on the floor next to him, and Ducky raised his eyes. Jay leaned against the sinks.

“What do you mean?” Ducky turned around, back pressing against the sharp edges of the sink. Jay had lost the calm, jovial expression he had worn earlier. He was oddly still, a shin around his face that looked like sweat. “Are you drunk?” he added. Ghosts were notorious for their low alcohol tolerance. It was an issue of transparency.

Jay didn’t answer either question. He just smirked, lips curling back. “Don’t you ever wonder what it is like?” he asked. “Don’t you ever wish you were a Nightsighter?”

“No.” As far as Ducky was concerned, he had already made his choice. He made the choice three years ago when he refused Alex’s mark, and Alex left. He had no desire to be anything but a Daysighter.

“You’re lying,” Jay chuckled, and the malicious sound echoed against the broken tiled walls. “All your friends are Nightsighters. They won’t let you be human forever. They’ll convince you to turn and become one of them.”

Ducky ignored the words, it was nothing he hadn’t heard before. He started forward, intent on the door. Jay wasn’t acting normal and everything about the situation read: desert! desert!

“You’re a human,” Jay taunted. He disappeared from sight, then reappeared in front of the bathroom door, blocking the exit. That was the other thing Ducky hated about ghosts: they never used their transparency for a good cause.

“I am,” he said evenly. “There is nothing wrong with that.” Jay was scaring him, and Ducky just wanted to reach the door. He moved to step around the apparition, when he suddenly found himself moving backward, pushed up against the back wall. Jay held him there, one hand spread across his chest. The coolness of it sunk down and chilled Ducky to the bone.

“What are you doing?” He didn’t care that his voice trembled.

“I want to be human, too. He promised me.” He loomed over Ducky, one hand anchored on the wall next to Ducky’s head. “I didn’t ask for this,” Jay continued in a plaintive voice that was at odds with his menacing stance. “It’s not fair that you’re still a human, and I’m just a ghost. He said he would fix it.”

Ducky looked around wildly as Jay pulled something red out of his pocket, fastening it around Ducky’s neck. It felt like velvet, but the edges were sharp and they sliced into Ducky’s skin.

“Let me go!” Ducky twisted, trying to break free. But that only made Jay laugh, and tightened the strip. Ducky kicked frantically, but his feet only hit the tile floor and the concrete walls. Walls which were already vibrating to the beat of techno. He could feel the strip clawing its way inside. His heart was pounding in his throat, protected only by the delicate bones. He thrashed about, searching for some type of escape.

“Why isn’t this working?” Jay muttered, twisting harder. Ducky choked. Jay braced himself against Ducky’s chest, pulling the scarf tighter across his throat. “You said you were unmarked.”

“No one marked me,” he was certain of that. But for the first time in his life, he kinda-sorta-really wished he had let Alex mark him. At least that way Ducky would have been under his protection, even if he had lost his independence. “Ghosts can’t mark people,” Ducky said, wheezed really, with more bravado than he felt. Marking was tradition with certain Nightsighters. Weres marked their pack members, vampires marked their mates, but mages and ghosts didn’t mark.

“You always thought you were so smart.” The scarf twisted deeper into the skin. Ducky tried to yell for help, but he knew no one could hear him above the club music. He was almost ready to stop fighting; the heavy feeling in his head was too much to ignore as the blood stopped flowing. His eyes fluttered close. One minute Jay’s face was right next to his, pupils dilated and panting; the next minute Ducky was on his back, the sleek figure of a jaguar standing over him. The scarf, and Jay, had disappeared.

He closed his eyes in relief. “Thanks,” he rasped, but his throat was sore and it hurt to talk. The jaguar nudged at his neck, tilting his chin backwards, so she could lick at the wounds around his neck. Her tongue was warm and rough, and with every lick Ducky started to feel more like himself. The concrete floor underneath him was hard, and cold and gritty. The jaguar finished, and sat back on its haunches. Ducky watched while it morphed. The fur shortened, the body became shorter and leaner. The paws by his head became knee-high black leather boots, with buckles around the ankles.

“Thanks,” he said again.

“No problem,” Patti brushed the dirt off her skin-tight black jeans as she stood up. She ran a hand through her long black hair, before offering Ducky a hand, helping him off the floor.

They looked at the other corner of the bathroom where Rico was manhandling a salted Jay toward the door.

“It burns, fucker!” Jay cried.

“Thats what happens when you try to take things that don’t belong to you,” Rico said, and Ducky didn’t think he was imagining Rico rubbing the salt in. That was going to be nasty. Salt burnt ghosts, turning them a lobster red.

“He doesn’t belong to you,” Jay scowled, wincing every time he was jostled. “Ow, fuck. Who does he belong to?”

Rico didn’t answer. He pressed his thumb into a particularly tender spot under Jay’s elbow. Jay howled in pain. Rico used the opportunity to shove him out the broken door, that was hanging by only the top hinge.

They watched him go. “Sunny wanted us to keep an eye on you,” Patti said. “Said she didn’t trust him.”

“I think he was trying to mark me,” he said, not looking away from the doorway.

“But ghosts can’t mark people.”

“I know,” Ducky reached up, and gently touched his neck. It was still sore.

“Come on, let’s get out of here before the management comes and yells at us for the salt.” Patti stepped backward. The heel of her boot caught on a flash of red fabric. Ducky’s stomach turned. The last time he had seen that it had been cutting off his air-supply. “That’s...”

“I know.” She reached down and picked it up, a line forming between her eyes. “Weird.”

“What is it?” Ducky asked her.

Her nose twitched. “Thyme, ground coyote bone, snake blood, incubus semen.”

 “What was it supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” she stared at it thoughtfully, “Usually only incubus mages use incubus semen. And it is usually used to signify their prey...It’s almost like he was trying to mark you.”

“But, Jay is a ghost.” And ghosts and mages can’t mark people, the words were left unsaid, but their presence was felt in the room.They stared at the piece of cloth, and Ducky shivered. Whatever the scarf was meant to do, it was not pleasant.

Patti folded it gingerly and slipped it into her back pocket. “I’ll take it back and ask the others.” She barred her teeth. “There will be hell to pay.”

Maybe they hadn’t marked him, but this was his pack. He slipped an arm around Patti’s waist as they exited past the broken door.

“Do you want a ride back to the house?” Patti asked. Ducky started to nod, then cut himself short. “No, it’s okay. There’s something I need to do.”

\---

 

Dawn crept in. The sky was a light-violet hung between two worlds. From the rocky cliff outcrop near the old playground, Ducky sat watching the city. Below, building lights flickered, the street lamps shone, and cars full of early-morning commuters streamed over the by-passes.

“I haven’t seen the sunrise in awhile,” a voice behind him said. Ducky didn’t turn around.

“It’s been awhile since I watched it with anyone, ” he responded, scooting over so there was room on the rock next to him. Sunny sat down next to him.

“I thought you might be here.” It had been three years since Ducky had been here. Before, it had been Alex sitting where Sunny now perched.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Ducky asked. He hadn’t stuck around long enough to find out.

Sunny’s grin was positively feral and showed all her teeth. “Rico’s going to take care of him. Rico and the inter-police.” Rico was large and fierce and held the pack together. He was a great friend, but Ducky would never want to be on his bad side. His hand went to his neck, unconsciously hovering above the contusions. Sunny caught the gesture. She lowered his hand and raised her own, critically examining his neck. “Bastard,” she hissed. Ducky had a feeling the words were aimed at Jay and not him.

He shifted, curling an arm around her shoulders. Sunny leaned into him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, head lolling to the side, resting on Ducky’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said, resting his cheek against her head. The movement strained his neck and made him wince. The medic had said it would probably take a few weeks for the bruises to heal. “I think I am.”

The sky brightened, pink giving way to pale yellows and robin blue. Sunlight pierced through the city smog. Below, the street lights shut-off.

“You’re our Duckster,” murmured Sunny. “We don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Ducky pressed a kiss to her temple, “I know.” They had adopted him and never expected anything else from him. Alex had wanted something from Ducky that he couldn’t have. Jay had wanted Ducky to be something he was not. Ducky just wanted the recognition that he didn’t have to be like everyone else to belong.

Anything could haunt him, he thought. His past, his present, his future. Ducky didn’t want to regret a thing.

“I can hear you thinking.” Sunny said, “Just shut-up and enjoy the new day.”

They watched the sunrise.

_  
_

_The world we suggest should be of a new wild West, a sensuous, evil world, strange and haunting. The path of the sun. --Jim Morrison_

 _  
_

 

\---


End file.
